


true love (is making fun of assholes together)

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [34]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: In which making fun of asshole customers is decidedlynotpart of their job description, but that doesn’t stop Ryan and Shane from doing it all the same.





	true love (is making fun of assholes together)

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for three things! 1) for the anonymous prompt “I thought you didn’t want me.” 2) for the shyanpositivity event over on tumblr and 3) for the latest edition of prompt roulette over at the bfu writer's discord, where one of the challenges was coffee shop au!

Ryan’s fairly certain that he’s been scrubbing at the same non-existent stain on the counter for the last five minutes.

They’re closing in twenty minutes, and there’s only a handful of customers that are still hanging around, regulars that Ryan can trust to head out before they flip the sign. Normally, he’d take advantage of the quiet to try to get a head-start on their closing routine, would go clean the bathrooms or tidy the tiny break room, but he can’t bring himself to move.

That would mean that he’d have to stop eavesdropping on the asshole sitting at the table closest to the counter.

He came in fifteen minutes ago, ordered a black coffee and a croissant, pulled a disgruntled face when Shane asked him if he wanted the croissant toasted, as if the answer should have been obvious, and dropped down at the nearest table heavily enough for the chair to creak alarmingly. Immediately after he finished demolishing his croissant (leaving behind a flurry of crumbs over both the table and his shirt), he’d yanked his phone out and called someone, and it’s that conversation that Ryan can’t stop listening to.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Based on the fact that Shane has been pretending to count their leftover baked goods for the last several minutes, Ryan suspects that they’re both in the same boat. Shane only glances from the glass display case to wave goodnight to one of their regulars before he returns to staring at the muffins and croissants, mouth screwed up like he’s trying with all his effort not to laugh.

Ryan can relate; he’s met some real dickheads since he started college, has unfortunately encountered quite a few while he was on the job, but this guy truly takes the cake for being an asshole. Even with only being able to hear one half of the conversation, it’s pretty clear that he’s trying to work the ‘ _nice guy_ ’ angle, and based on the way his face is growing increasingly red and crumpling into a look Ryan can only describe as crestfallen, the person on the other end of the line isn’t falling for it.

“But...” The guy trails off, presumably because he’s interrupted, and Ryan glances at Shane out of the corner of his eye. Shane’s eyes are twinkling with mirth, and there’s a slight, but still noticeable, shake to his shoulders, like the laughter is about to burst from his chest like an animal escaping from the zoo.

“But I thought you _didn’t_ want me,” the guy continues, and he sounds so pathetic that Ryan kind of wants to throw the rag he’s been using to ‘clean’ at his head.

“Oh my _God_ ,” he whispers instead, stepping away from the counter and walking behind Shane. Out of habit, he trails his fingers along Shane’s back before he steps over to the espresso machine so he can pretend to polish that.

“This is better than the last six movies we’ve watched,” Shane replies before he breaks into a beaming grin and calls out, “Have a good night!” when another one of their regulars drops a tip into the small jar on the counter and heads out. 

Before Ryan can say anything, it somehow gets even better.

“Well, if you _didn’t_ want me, then why did you help me study for that exam?”

Laughter abruptly bursts from Shane’s chest like a thunderclap, and that’s enough to make Ryan lose it too. There’s no point in trying to restrain himself; it’d be like trying to cap a volcano after it’s already erupted. When he glances up, he’s not surprised to see that the guy is glowering at the two of them, phone still hovering in front of his ear, but that just makes him laugh even harder.

“Seriously, man?” Shane splutters, tears flowing down his lightly stubbled cheeks. “You actually just asked someone that. For real.” 

The guy spits out a few half-formed words, face growing increasingly redder, and after only a few seconds, Ryan decides to put him out his misery.

“C’mon, dude,” he says, shaking his head. “They aren’t into you. And I don’t blame them, frankly.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shane stick his hand out, and Ryan automatically fistbumps him without turning his head.

For a few moments, the guy doesn’t say anything coherent. His face reddens further, until Ryan is actually afraid he might have a heart attack, and his grip tightens on his phone until Ryan half-expects the case to crack. 

And all the while, Ryan just can’t stop laughing.

Eventually, the guy shoves his phone into his pocket (Ryan assumes that whoever was on the other end has already hung up) and gathers up the rest of his things. Once he’s on his feet, still glaring at them, he reaches out and, like a particularly vindictive cat, pushes the saucer that his croissant came on to the floor.

The saucer hits the tile with a loud _thunk_ , but it doesn’t actually break, and for a few seconds, the guy simply stares down at it with the most perplexed expression Ryan has ever seen. He wheezes helplessly, and tears start leaking from his own eyes.

“Don’t worry, we'll grab that for you,” he says, leaning heavily into Shane’s side, ribs aching, bracing himself on the counter with one hand so that he doesn’t simply fall over.

“Fuck you,” the guy mutters under his breath, cheeks nearly purple with rage as he walks towards the door.

“Have a nice night!” Shane says cheerily, throwing in a wave for extra emphasis. As soon as the guy’s back is totally turned, that wave turns into an jauntily extended middle finger, and Ryan laughs even harder.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, wiping at his eyes once the bell over the door quits ringing. The shop is totally empty now, and even though there’s still technically ten minutes before close, he doesn’t feel guilty about stepping out from behind the counter so he can turn the sign over and flick the lock on the door. “What a fucking guy.” 

“I thought his head was going to explode.” Shane comes out into the main area to start stacking the chairs on the tables, but he’s only done two before he stops and starts laughing again, almost silent with the force of it, shoulders heaving. When Ryan looks over, Shane is simply pointing at where the saucer is still lying on the floor, totally intact. Eventually, he manages to choke out, “The fucking _plate_ ,” before he sags back against the counter and dissolves into wheezing. He looks simply delighted at the sheer absurdity of the situation, and even as Ryan chokes on more laughter of his own, he falls a little harder for the guy.

Once he’s pulled the blinds down over the two windows that face out onto the sidewalk (it takes a few tries, because his shoulders are shaking so hard), he crosses the room to where Shane is wiping at his leaking eyes with the back of his hand. 

“C’mere,” he says, curling a hand into the rough fabric of Shane’s barista apron and tugging him forward a bit. Shane gasps loudly as he casually tosses his long arms around Ryan’s neck.

“But _Ryan_ ,” he proclaims loudly, like an aghast actress in a soap opera, “I thought you didn’t _want_ me.”

“You know damn well that isn’t true,” Ryan answers, shaking his head and trying his best to restrain his laughter so that he can actually slot his mouth against Shane’s.

“Do I, though?” Shane raises one eyebrow and lightly drums his fingers on the back of Ryan’s neck, eyes still sparkling with tears of amusement. “Maybe you should prove it.”

“Fine,” Ryan shrugs, pressing Shane back against the counter and leaning up onto his toes. “I will.”

(By the time they manage to break away from each other, Ryan having satisfactorily proven his point, they’re already half an hour behind schedule.

Ryan regrets nothing.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
